


We Can't

by Nijinsky



Category: Free!
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:53:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nijinsky/pseuds/Nijinsky
Summary: What do you do when there's so little room on the train that you and your boyfriend can hardly breathe? Jack him off, of course.





	We Can't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seriouslyjustno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriouslyjustno/gifts).



> happy birthday asshole

_ We can’t. We can’t. We can’t. _

A million thoughts could be rushing through Makoto’s head at this very moment, but his head was crammed full of two words.  _ We can’t.  _ Around him, everything seemed to be so very clear. The metallic chafe of the tracks against the train’s rails. The distant sound of a person coughing, muffled by a surgical mask and a clenched fist. The frantic palpitations of his heart, which was apt to burst from his rib cage at any second. In that moment his senses seemed all too acute, yet his senses were dull, fuzzy, reaching his eyes and ears through a film of cotton.

Haruka’s hand, oblivious (or perhaps insensitive) to the distress, continued onward. Its fingers slipped past those weak defenses, coming to rest in the tight space between unfastened trousers and briefs. The muted roar of the train could not mask the hitch in Makoto’s breath as his palm cupped the bulge, relishing in the warmth and the slow growth as it stirred to life.

_ We can’t. We can’t. We ca- _

“-n’t.” The tailend of the mantra made the transition from mental to physical, riding a labored breath as Haru deftly extracted the half-flaccid cock and supported it in his palm. The cool, foreign air of the train elicited a shiver from its owner, whose knuckles had gone bone white. The handle was his lifeline, the only thing keeping him tethered to the world of the living in the face of so many stimuli.

There were people, so many people. Surely at least  _ one  _ had borne witness to the raven spitting into his own hand only to smear it on his partial erection. There were too many people for nobody to watch as those weathered hands put the crude lubricant to work, working the shaft with agonizingly slow movements. The ambient sounds could not be enough to mask the various whimpers and whines that resonated in Makoto’s throat, unable to be silenced during such ministrations.

Haru knew too much, did too much. Considering the setting, he shouldn’t have snaked another arm around his companion’s waist to pay attention to those aching balls, otherwise neglected. He shouldn’t have been so meticulous about drawing back the foreskin and gingerly brushing the swollen glans, forcing the brunet’s hips to jut forward in search of more contact. He shouldn’t have pressed the outline of his own arousal against the inside of the other’s leg, cruelly caged behind three layers of fabric. He  _ certainly _ shouldn’t have craned his neck and stretched his leg to blow a warm breath into Makoto’s ear, already red hot with embarrassment, carrying sultry words… but there was something intoxicating about being surrounded by people, an aphrodisiac to be  _ experienced _ rather than inhaled or ingested. The idea of being caught was terrifying, but exhilarating, guiding his hand to Makoto’s weaknesses in spite of his mind’s protests.

_ We can’t. _

These weaknesses conjured all sorts of noises, all sorts of movements. Not a single one escaped Haru’s observation, who felt his heart pang with each breathy corruption of his name and every overstimulated twitch and shake. His groin yearned for attention, but this wasn’t about him. This was about…

“Ma-ko-to.”

Three syllables. Three seconds. Three well-deserved shots of cum, clumsily caught with the combined forces of three hands (the fourth--Makoto’s--clamped firmly over his mouth to trap the sounds of orgasm. The viscous substance seared their skin and dripped to the floor despite their best efforts. His concern broke him out of his respite, and while he struggled with sloppy hands to recompose himself, Haru pressed his face into his back…

And smiled.


End file.
